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Despite my recent blog post, I am hoping to have another update out in the next few days. Sort of want to get Bastions back into the limelight so I am going to try to actually update more quickly. Hope everyone has been enjoying Werna and Ælle's tales for they are going to be ending soonish, probably let them roll over into the next chapter.

I met my love by the gas works wall / Dreamed a dream by the old canal / Kissed a girl by the factory wallDirty old town / Dirty old townI'm going to make me a good sharp axe / Shiningsteeltempered in the fire / Will chop you down like an old dead treeDirty old town / Dirty old town

I met my love by the gas works wall / Dreamed a dream by the old canal / Kissed a girl by the factory wallDirty old town / Dirty old townI'm going to make me a good sharp axe / Shiningsteeltempered in the fire / Will chop you down like an old dead treeDirty old town / Dirty old town

I'm still trying to figure out who this guy is though . . . in my head he was a former royal but got disowned. (possibly because of the Pagan scandal)

My own quotes:
"Everything is possible with time and imagination, time just hasn't caught up with our imagination."
"A stagnant brain is a very bad thing. Try keeping your head open to allow fresh air in but not open enough for your brain to fall out."

I met my love by the gas works wall / Dreamed a dream by the old canal / Kissed a girl by the factory wallDirty old town / Dirty old townI'm going to make me a good sharp axe / Shiningsteeltempered in the fire / Will chop you down like an old dead treeDirty old town / Dirty old town

Prelude:
Paganism in Prussia lingered centuries after the arrival of Christianity. Since Saxon (and later Prussian) authority was centered on their burghs and grads, those who wished to stick to the old faiths and the old gods retreated to the woods and to traveling caravans. From there they either lived off the land as poachers or formed troupes of nomadic fortune tellers and street performers. This lifestyle was especially true of the Lithuanians who were greatly marginalized. Their lands had been divided up amongst restless Saxon nobles, their lack of ports made them less important than the Latvians. Once segregated from society at large, it became very easy for them to resist conversion and so their pagan traditions survived long past when most historians agree that paganism died out amongst the more settled Prussian people. By the XV Century, "Lith" became a common name for these nomadic peoples who eventually spread throughout Northern and Eastern Europe. However, as cities became more stable and the Liths more and more suspect, it became necessary for many to convert to Christianity. Their blood, once pure through their self-imposed segregation, became watered down as prostitutes, writers, artists and others joined their bands in the search for income. Many bands eventually settled down, often in the major cities of the Baltic Coast. In 2012 the Prussian Census showed that there were some 1.2 million "Liths" (people claiming 'Lith' as their primary heritage). Of these people only 15,000 declared Lithuanian as a language they spoke fluently, and just 300 declared that they used it more often than Prussian. The government was surprised to find only three families, totaling 12 people, still practiced the traditional paganism while a healthier 300,000 practice some form of "new-age" paganism or spiritualism.

December 21st, 1381

The standing stones had been neatly cleaned off in the morning. The snow that had once blanketed them was now heaped around their bases. It was the surest sign that the Liths had been through. No one else would have disturbed them. No one else would have even put a single foot on such unholy ground. Werna looked more closely, he saw that even the moss had been scrapped out of the grooves and patterns marking each of the massive stones. In the cold breeze through the trees he had to hike his hood up so it would cover his forehead and he brought his hands up to his lips so he could blow warm air over his freezing fingers. Many of the lay were preparing for the Yule season, but the Church was quiet and content. All around the visible signs of old Germanic paganism came out of hiding. People just wanted to have a reason to celebrate regardless of why. So the mead flowed freely and those who on any other day would be miserly gave away with open hands.

"Hello, Werna," a feminine voice cooed.

Werna turned to see his muse bundled tightly with mistletoe and holly branches in her hair. "Hello, Astiya." She blushed when he remembered her name so easily, so clearly.

"It is good to see they did not make you forget everything you once were," Astiya said. I've waited a long time, Werna. Whenever we came through I'd try to find you. But you were hidden away from me."

"I am sorry; I did not have it in me to run away from the monastery. Not until now."

"What changed?"

"I am not really certain. But I hated it in there. There was little reprieve. Only the faces of children got me through it all."

"Come, I have something to show you." Astiya grabbed Werna's arm and pulled him along. After a few yards he pulled his arm from her grasp but she immediately caught his hand and continued to pull him along, out of the standing stones and the forest they stood in and onto his father's farm.

"I cannot go back there," Werna protested.

"Please, just follow me, this is important for you." She continued to lead him until he was certain that they could be seen from the homestead. There, under a tree he remembered as being much shorter, was a small mound and a cross. Written on it was his father's name. There was a date too, just a few weeks after he left for the monastery.

"How?"

"A mule kicked him in the head while he was working in the fields. There was no one but me to help him and I was too afraid of being accused of provoking the animal. I am sorry."

Werna looked at the makeshift cross and then at her, "What of my mother and sisters?"

"They left for her parent's place. The house has been empty since. She left with child; I believe she had a son. They named him after your father."

"You've seen them, then?"

"In passing, I never tried to reach out to them. They fear me, they all do." Astiya looked at the ground and picked the snow aside with her feet. The two headed toward the house, which sat empty and dark on the far end of the fields. "Everyone in the village thinks it is cursed," Astiya said as Werna forced the rusted hinges open.

"Not surprised... might keep people at bay for a while."

"Do you expect to live here?"

"Not permanently but just until I figure out what I am going to do next," Werna said. He looked around and began digging through the few things that were left behind. It wasn't much. Nature was slowly reclaiming the building. Already the beams sagged under rot and termites. The roof was patchy and mosses carpeted the floors. The cast iron pot had been left, too heavy for the womenfolk to take away. It had been 'walked' a few feet, leaving it hanging half in and half out of the hearth. Astiya watched Werna in his explorations.

When he looked up at her, he saw that she was distracted. "What is wrong, Astiya?"

"I... I... thought you would join me," she said. Tears welled up in her eyes. "I promise that I have been no other man's 'muse' during your absence. I have waited for you, Werna. I... I... love you."

The words fell softly on Werna's ears. Words failed him for the first time in his life. There were no words in any language to describe what he saw or felt inside.

"I thought you might want to join the caravan. Bu..."

"Of course I will, Astiya. I... I... have wanted nothing else since I was dragged away from this place. Five long years of imprisonment. To suddenly be able to do anything... it... it is hard to explain."

"No, no it is not. I too have had to face your imprisonment. They took you from me, me! The Queen of Autumn." Werna smiled, that was his nick name for her.

He walked over and took her hand and kissed it gently, "Where are we headed, my majesty?"

She smiled, "the caravan is waiting for us not too far from here. We can make it there by sun down."

***

July 3rd, 1137

"What is the Vasque word for 'fire'?" Ælle asked.

"Sua," was the reply.

Ælle nodded and rolling his eyes as he left the ramparts of the city said, "We should rename the city 'Sua', I feel it would be very fitting." Behind him, Pamplona burned, as it often did, now that it was the center of ire for two forces. The Vasques had seized the city during a gap of time between the French abandoning the city and the Arabs coming to siege it. Ælle was, in theory, King of Pamplona. It was mostly a political move as the Vasques looked to have a legitimate face to their cause. One that they hoped would be taken seriously by the world around them. He had no claim, no allies, nothing. But he was nominally Catholic and born from one of the royal families of Europe so he had all the qualifications.

As be moved throughout the fortress people saluted him. Not as a King, though, but as a general. It had been Ælle that led them to victory. Despite his failings as a son and a husband, he was still a commander with few equals in the world. Now he had to try to learn the game that dominated so much of Europe at the time. "Get the white flags, I wish to parlay with the Arabs," Ælle called.

"What for?" Olaf asked. Despite his concerns he did as he was told and found a suitable piece of cloth and began to tie it to a pole.

"We have no qualm with them. We seek only the lands of the Vasques to be free." It was a fool-hardy and naive belief that any army would just let them be, but Ælle knew he had to try, it would be hard for him to hold off two invading forces while controlling only a small sliver of land.

Olaf rode beside Ælle out to where the Caliph of Toledo waited for him. As Ælle approached he saw a man not unlike himself, pale but burned by the sun, uncomfortable in his ceremonial armor, and tired of the war.

"Welcome so-called King of Pamplona," the Caliph said. His French was good; a product of thousands of deals no doubt. "You seek my audience and I have given it. What can the Caliph of Toledo do for you today?"

"I seek to spare my city from invasion and siege in order to prepare it for invasion and siege from a second party who is far less willing to talk things out," Ælle responded.

The Caliph, silent, raised a single eyebrow and pulled his horse back under control after it found a flower more entertaining than the discussion of men. "A second party? Which party is that so-called King?"

"The Armies of the French Crusade," Ælle said. "They will seek to annihilate the city."

"Annihilate it, you say? Are you not crusaders yourselves?" the Caliph asked, his demeanor remaining calm and collected.

"Nay, your lordship. We are but two ex-crusaders and several thousand Vasques," Ælle answered truthfully. He sensed that honesty would get him much further with a man like the Caliph.

The Caliph smiled, he seemed to enjoy Ælle's good humor even when facing total destruction. "Why do two ex-crusaders take up arm with the Vasques?"

"We felt that the most honorable side in this conflict was no side at all, no offense meant, your lordship." Ælle's face reddened with embarrassment. It was obvious to all that he was a much better general than a diplomat.

"I think I can agree with you there. But would you not agree that I am the lesser of two evils in this war?"

"And that is why I am parlaying in the southern fields rather than in the northern fields, your lordship."

The Caliph nudged his head back and let out a small laugh through his nose, "Touché. You are a smart man, Ælle, I will propose this: one eighth of your taxes be paid to the Caliph every year and I can promise you two things: firstly that I will defend your crown so long as our blood sits on our respective thrones and secondly that you will be recognized as King Ælle of Pamplona. Any lands you conquer will be yours and yours alone so long as they are conquered from our enemies."

"Call it one tenth," Olaf said a bit louder than he meant, "... your lordship."

"Fine, one tenth. It saves me trouble of siege and makes me gold. So be it." The Caliph pulled his reigns and turned his horse around. He left the Vasques and their newly recognized King dumbfounded.

"I think we... won?" Olaf asked. He turned to the others for some sort of confirmation but all he got was a shrug from Ælle. The King turned his horse around and trotted away. He thought to himself that this diplomacy thing was much easier than everyone made it seem. Back inside the city he found the people desperately trying to extinguish the fires. Hopefully they can make the place look nice for the crusaders.

The Kingdom of Pamplona in 1137 superimposed over the modern boarders.

I met my love by the gas works wall / Dreamed a dream by the old canal / Kissed a girl by the factory wallDirty old town / Dirty old townI'm going to make me a good sharp axe / Shiningsteeltempered in the fire / Will chop you down like an old dead treeDirty old town / Dirty old town

The Lith look like a cooler form of Roma, with some bohemians (the writers and artists you mentioned) thrown in. Sounds like an awesome mix And I want to see how Werna will fit in!
Good to see Aelle getting some long-overdue peace for his newfound kingdom.

The Lith look like a cooler form of Roma, with some bohemians (the writers and artists you mentioned) thrown in. Sounds like an awesome mix And I want to see how Werna will fit in!
Good to see Aelle getting some long-overdue peace for his newfound kingdom.

I met my love by the gas works wall / Dreamed a dream by the old canal / Kissed a girl by the factory wallDirty old town / Dirty old townI'm going to make me a good sharp axe / Shiningsteeltempered in the fire / Will chop you down like an old dead treeDirty old town / Dirty old town

Pagans in Prussia! I think we need a prussian Inquisition. (it would be unexpected)

It would be if it was possible. I think he might have played a little to far to be able to do that though.

My own quotes:
"Everything is possible with time and imagination, time just hasn't caught up with our imagination."
"A stagnant brain is a very bad thing. Try keeping your head open to allow fresh air in but not open enough for your brain to fall out."

I met my love by the gas works wall / Dreamed a dream by the old canal / Kissed a girl by the factory wallDirty old town / Dirty old townI'm going to make me a good sharp axe / Shiningsteeltempered in the fire / Will chop you down like an old dead treeDirty old town / Dirty old town

I met my love by the gas works wall / Dreamed a dream by the old canal / Kissed a girl by the factory wallDirty old town / Dirty old townI'm going to make me a good sharp axe / Shiningsteeltempered in the fire / Will chop you down like an old dead treeDirty old town / Dirty old town

I met my love by the gas works wall / Dreamed a dream by the old canal / Kissed a girl by the factory wallDirty old town / Dirty old townI'm going to make me a good sharp axe / Shiningsteeltempered in the fire / Will chop you down like an old dead treeDirty old town / Dirty old town

I met my love by the gas works wall / Dreamed a dream by the old canal / Kissed a girl by the factory wallDirty old town / Dirty old townI'm going to make me a good sharp axe / Shiningsteeltempered in the fire / Will chop you down like an old dead treeDirty old town / Dirty old town